I proceeded to follow her advice, and presently I purchased a quantity of ribbon of different shades and colours, two or three pairs of gloves--boots I decided I could do without, although mine were rather shabby--some neckties of different colours, and a new hat. The hat was quite unsuitable, but Rita said it was remarkably stylish. By this time I had spent three or four pounds of my allowance. "Oh, I must have some handkerchiefs and stockings," I said suddenly. I thought myself most prudent and all that was wise and common-sense when I spoke of stockings. I bought several pairs of most expensive make, and furnished myself with some fine lawn handkerchiefs, and lo and behold! my first five-pound note had vanished. Still, I had the other. "You ought to think of the Christmas-boxes; you ought to take something home for them all," said Rita. The Christmas-boxes proved themselves most fascinating. They were the sort of things that beckoned you into a shop, and then went away, and you could not find them. You followed them from shop to shop, and always exactly the very things you wanted were in another shop farther on and yet quite near. Oh, how difficult it was to get them! That knife, for instance, that Alex would like, or that pen which Charley would condescend to write with, or that pair of soft doeskin gloves for Hannah--Hannah was always complaining of cold hands. In the end I gave up the knife and the pen and the gloves, and bought fancy articles which I thought would please my family--glass and china for my step-mother; a new sort of inkpot, which eventually proved of no use at all, but was very expensive, for my father; and things for the boys which I will reveal by-and-by. I had only thirty shillings out of my ten pounds when I returned home that afternoon, having provided presents for every one except myself; and in addition I presented an exceedingly expensive, huge box of chocolates each to Rita and Agnes Swan. They called me their best darling, and said that each moment my appearance was improving, until at last their remarks made me so angry that I said, "If you say that again I will never speak to you or give you sixpence-worth of chocolates as long as I live!" Upon this threat the two girls were silent, until at last Rita remarked, "Well, whatever happens, she will always pass in a crowd." "What does that mean?" I said. "It means that whatever you put on, you will never be anything but a most ordinary-looking person. Now, does that content you?" "Better than flattering words which are false," I said stoutly.